


things you said too quietly

by ericaismeg, foxerica (ericaismeg)



Series: rare ships [18]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Bickering, Clumsy Jackson, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Pack Dynamics, Stiles Gets Knocked Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 18:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5175536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ericaismeg/pseuds/ericaismeg, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ericaismeg/pseuds/foxerica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“God, Jackson, when are you going to grow the fuck up?” Stiles asks, after a particular bad fight with him. He rubs his jaw where Jackson punched him, and sighs. It didn’t hurt as badly as it has in the past.</p><p>Jackson stares down at his hand, as though the small cut on his knuckle is more important than the bruise Stiles will have on his jaw. Jackson lifts his eyes to look at Stiles. His expression shifts from shock to confusion to disbelief.</p><p>“Stiles, I–”</p>
            </blockquote>





	things you said too quietly

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here!](http://foxerica.tumblr.com/post/127961210802/ooooh-also-stackson-3)

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**

 

“God, Jackson, when are you going to grow the fuck up?” Stiles asks, after a particular bad fight with him. He rubs his jaw where Jackson punched him, and sighs. It didn’t hurt as badly as it has in the past.

Jackson stares down at his hand, as though the small cut on his knuckle is more important than the bruise Stiles will have on his jaw. Jackson lifts his eyes to look at Stiles. His expression shifts from shock to confusion to disbelief.

“Stiles, I–”

“I get it. You hate my guts. I don’t know why I bother trying to be nice to you. The pack is meeting back at Derek’s house. If you’re done punching me for saving your life, I’m going to head over now.” Stiles runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah? You done?”

“It was an accident,” Jackson mumbles.

Stiles rolls his eyes and walks towards his Jeep. He shouts, “Jackson, you comin’ or what?”

Jackson slowly walks over to the Jeep. He doesn’t say much on the way over. Stiles swears he hears him say, _“Sorry.”_

He must be hearing things though. Jackson never apologizes, even when he does make mistakes. It’s just who he is; who Stiles has grown to care for anyway.

 

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**

 

“Jackson! Why is my white dress shirt  _pink?”_ Stiles demands, running down the stairs from his room at Derek’s house. He had moved in after high school, convincing his dad that it was the best for the pack. School hadn’t been an option for him anyway, considering how much it costs. His dad had promised they’d try to get him into school but it wasn’t happening.

Not that Stiles would ever tell Derek that. He knows Derek would offer to pay for him. He’d only drunkenly told one person in the pack that he wishes he was going to school. That was Jackson. But then he’d told Jackson about how he desperately needs to be with the pack. He wouldn’t survive a year at college without someone else around, and no one wants to go to New York.

He’d given it up. Shoved all thoughts of school in the back of his mind. He’d decided that it wasn’t worth worrying about, since he couldn’t afford it anyway.

He’s not sure why it’s on his mind again. He thought he’d let it all go. When he walks into the kitchen, he holds up his shirt. The shirt that already cost more than he had had to spend when he bought it. “Jackson? Boyd said you were the last to do laundry. Do you even know  _how_  to do laundry?”

Jackson turns to face him, holding a glass of orange juice. He leans against the counter. “Clearly not.”

Stiles sighs. “This was a good shirt. This was the shirt I was supposed to wear on my date next week.”

He watches as Jackson’s expression hardens. “I’ll replace it, Stilinski. It’s just a shirt.”

Just a shirt. Stiles looks at it. Perhaps in the grand scheme of things, it’s  _just a shirt._  Only he doesn’t seem to see it like that. This was going to be the clean white shirt he’d wear on all first dates to impress people.

“Besides, I’m sure you’d look good in that shade of pink. You can still wear it,” Jackson adds.

“I’d look ridiculous in this shirt!” Stiles argues.

“Let’s see it.” Jackson waves his free hand at Stiles.

Always up for a challenge, Stiles sets the shirt on the back of a chair. He pulls his plain grey t-shirt over his head and then yanks the now-pink buttoned shirt on. As he buttons the shirt up, he glares at Jackson. “I look ridiculous.”

“Actually, you look great.” Jackson nods with approval when Stiles starts rolling his sleeves. Jackson reaches over to tug the shirt down at the bottom hem with his free hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll have a replacement shirt on your bed by tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Stiles mutters, looking own at the shirt. It’d surprisingly been dyed pink fairly evenly. The shirt almost looks like it always was supposed to be like this.

Jackson passes Stiles, and pauses beside him to say quietly, “For the record, anyone who gives a shit about what you wear on a first date isn’t worth your time, Stilinski.”

Stiles snorts. “Says the guy who’s always dressed in Armani.”

“And do you care if I’m in Armani or if I’m wearing something from Old Navy?” Jackson asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer. He walks out the back kitchen door. Stiles knows he’s going to enjoy his glass of orange juice on the back porch for a few minutes before he starts doing his stretches and workout routine.

He watches the door shut behind Jackson. Stiles is shameless when he goes to the kitchen window and watches Jackson pull his shirt off ten minutes later. Jackson is stretching out his arms when Stiles calls Scott.

“You should cancel my blind date for next week.”

 _“Really, buddy? Heather’s going to be so disappointed. She was looking forward to it,”_  Scott says, clearly pouting wherever he is.

Stiles swallows when Jackson leans forward to give him a great view of his ass. “Really. I can’t do it, man.”

 _“I’ll reschedule it then.”_  Scott says.

“Don’t bother.”

If Jackson heard anything from Stiles’ conversation with Scott, he shows no sign of it. Eventually, Stiles tears himself away from the window. But he doesn’t take the pink shirt off.

 

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**

 

“Seriously?! Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles says, rubbing his leg. “Jackson, we’re on the same fucking team!”

Jackson lifts his head and his lips part. He takes a few steps towards Stiles and reaches out, but Stiles stumbles back. Jackson lets his hand drop. “Stiles, I swear–”

“C’mon, Jackson. We’re supposed to be taking out the bad guys. Not each other. Jesus. Watch where you swing my bat, will you?” Stiles says. He stretches out his leg and takes a deep breath. “Fuck. That’s going to be another bruise.”

“It slipped. I swear.”

“Whatever. They’re getting away. Let’s go.”

Jackson follows him. Stiles glances back, wondering how the hell he ever managed to develop feelings for the guy. He might not be the nicest person, but Stiles  _knows_  there’s something below the angry surface with Jackson. There has to be. Otherwise, Stiles has officially lost his mind having this crush.

When he falls in step with Jackson, Stiles remembers the day he’d shown up on Stiles’ front porch with some flowers on the anniversary of his mom’s death. He’d been awkward as hell about it, but had told Stiles that he couldn’t imagine what he was going through. Jackson had admitted to mourning his birth parents that he’d never known, and said he had no idea what Stiles was going through but he wasn’t alone.

Stiles glances at Jackson now. He never really felt alone with Jackson around. Somehow, the big, annoying prick had grown on him and become decent company.

“You know what? Give me the bat,” Stiles says, holding his hand out. “Use your werewolf claws.”

Jackson shoots him a glare, but hands the bat over anyway.  He mutters, “Let’s not fuck this up, Stilinski. Our pack is depending on us to get this trap right.”

Stiles bobs his head in confirmation. They sneak up to the corner of the building. Stiles falls back to let Jackson stand closest to the edge. Jackson glances back at Stiles and whispers,  _“Incoming in forty seconds.”_

 _“Ready?”_  Stiles whispers.

_“Ready.”_

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**

 

“You want to partner up with Jackson again?” Scott asks, looking at their floor plan. Stiles knows he’s talking to him.

“Yeah, um, I guess so.” When everyone looks at him, he says, “He’s always hurting me though. Like I get more bruises from him than the stupid creatures we’re fighting.”

“Really? He’s never hurt me,” Scott says, surprised.

“You’d heal,” Lydia points out. “But he’s always very careful not to hurt me. Maybe you make him nervous, kiddo.”

Stiles rolls his shoulders before he says, “Alright. So it’s just me that he hates.”

“I don’t think Jackson hates you,” Allison comments. She continues, “Since that’s settled, I’ll take Lydia. Scott, you and Kira are a great team. Derek, you head up with Isaac. Erica and Boyd, you two can be together if you  _promise_ not to get distracted by making out. If you force the witches into this room, then we could get at them from here and–”

Stiles tunes out for the rest of the conversation. Soon, they’re discussing who’s stronger at what, and he can’t be bothered to defend Jackson and himself. They were a strong team, yes, but they weren’t the best. Stiles briefly catches Scott saying something about bringing in Liam and Hayden as back-up. He rolls his eyes and slips out of the room.

He dials Jackson’s number.  _“Stilinski?”_

“It looks like we’re partners again for tonight’s mission.”

_"Okay. You called to tell me that?”_

“Yeah, I guess. Um. I cancelled my date tomorrow night,” Stiles murmurs. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Doesn’t know what he’s expecting.

Jackson grunts. His voice is measured when he says,  _“Why?”_

“You tell me,” Stiles responds. Jacksn doesn’t say anything though. A few beats pass by before Stiles asks, “Meet me at the high school in twenty? I think the team has us playing bait tonight.”

_“Great. I’ll see you then, Stilinski.”_

Stiles hangs up. He turns back to see Derek walking over to him. He holds up his phone in the air. “Just getting Jackson caught up.”

Derek nods. “Of course. Want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Stiles asks.

“Scott said you cancelled your date,” Derek explains. “Want to talk about your feelings for Jackson?”

Stiles shakes his head. He looks down at his phone and mumbles, “Nope. That’s the  _last_  thing I want to do right now. He doesn’t exactly like me much.”

Derek lets out a small laugh and clasps Stiles’ shoulder. “C’mon, Stiles. What boy isn’t taught to pull pigtails of their crush when they’re growing up? Jackson doesn’t know how to express himself. He’s never been taught how to.”

“And you do?” Stiles asks.

"Let’s just say that being with Lydia has taught me a thing or two.” Derek grins brightly.

“Ugh, gross,” Stiles mumbles. “How did you two ever end up together? You hated each other in the beginning.”

“Funny, that sounds like you and Jackson.” Derek winks and steers him back towards the house. “Stop thinking it’s impossible, Stiles.”

He gives Derek a heavy sigh, and that only seems to amuse him even more. “Happy my pain is funny to you.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re too dramatic. Lydia will clean me out of a hundred bucks if you don’t make your move on Jackson in the next two weeks.”

Stiles laughs and hits Derek in the chest. “You bet on this?!”

“We bet on everything. Keeps our relationship fresh.” Derek holds the door open for Stiles. “We’ve all been through too much to let a little fear hold us back, don’t you think?”

“God, you think you’ve gotten so wise now that you’re dating the genius of the pack,” Stiles mutters but he’s smiling now.

“You’re right. I do.”

“Smartass.”

 

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**

 

 _"Stiles?”_  Jackson asks, his voice coming desperately from the distance. _“Stiles! Come on, Stiles, this isn’t how it’s going to end. Come on, wake up. Goddammit Stiles! You need to wake up because I don’t think I can do this without you.”_

Stiles’ head feels heavy. Like a ton of bricks magically appeared. He tries to roll the bricks out but moving makes them heavier. His eyelids feel like they’ve been stapled shut so he quits attempting to open them.

Somehow, he things he feels some pressure on his hand. It doesn’t hurt though. Not like the rest of his body. It feels nice. Warm, even.

_“Stiles, I swear–if you die before I can tell you how much I love you…I’m going to fucking kill you.”_

Is that Jackson? He can’t quite make out the voice because they’re talking so damn quietly and in the distance. Stiles wants to ask them to speak up, but things go fuzzy like a TV with no reception and then they click to black.

 

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**

 

_“If you wake up, I’ll take you out to the greasiest burger joint. You can have whatever you want. Wear the pink shirt or the new white one I bought you. You can make fun of me for only eating a salad.”_

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**

 

_"Maybe I’ll go with you to New York. I want you to go to school. Maybe I’d be enough for you. Am I enough for you?”_

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**

_"We could go grocery shopping together and argue about what type of peanut butter to buy.”_

 

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**

_“Ally, I think he’s coming around.”_

_“Scott, shh. Don’t freak him out.”  
_

Stiles is stiff and sore and not at all comfortable when he wakes up a few days later. Scott explains to him that he had been hit with a sleeping curse from one of the witches. Jackson had caught him before he’d hit his head though, thankfully. Allison jumps in to add that Jackson’s barely slept because he’s been pretty worried about Stiles.

“The witch?” Stiles asks, groggy. His voice doesn’t sound like his yet.

“Kira used her energy against her. It was pretty badass. They’re powerless and at Deaton’s. He’s taking them to some witch council,” Allison explains. She squeezes Stiles’ hand. “I’m going to go get Jackson. He looks almost as bad as you do.”

Stiles nods and watches Allison leave the room. “So I guess it was kind of like I was in a coma?”

“I guess. How are you feeling now?” Scott asks, watching his friend carefully. Stiles struggles to sit up a bit more. Scott reaches out to help lift Stiles up against the headrest. “You’re probably going to be pretty weak. We’ve had an IV in you for the past few days.”

“Ugh,” Stiles grumbles. He shakes his head. “I honestly feel like shit. I could sleep again.”

Scott shakes his head. “Please don’t. We can’t handle anymore of your snoring.”

Stiles laughs lightly and his ribs hurt. He groans and rubs his eyes. “Ugh. So…Jackson was pretty upset, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

Scott jumps up suddenly. “I’ll be back soon, buddy. I think Jackson has some stuff to say to you in private.”

Then Scott’s leaving and a few seconds later, Jackson’s walking in. Stiles’ heart starts to pound. His mouth feels drier than it had when he’d woken up. Stiles lifts his hand to give Jackson a weak wave. “Hey. How’ve you been big guy?”

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes,” Jackson says.

Stiles snorts. “How long have you been thinking about that line?”

“Since the witch said you’d wake up and be okay yesterday,” Jackson admits. He stands at the end of Stiles’ bed though. “I’m pretty sure it’s me who is supposed to be asking you how you’re doing.”

“We could talk about that. Or we could talk about the date you promised me.” Stiles swallows.

“You heard all of that, huh?” Jackson asks, looking at his hands. Stiles notices him nervously playing with them.

“I think so.”

“Stiles–we don’t have to–I was just–”

“I’d like to,” Stiles interrupts. “In fact, I’d like it a lot.”

Jackson’s lips curve into a small smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Stiles waits a moment before adding, “But you’ve really gotta stop hurting me.”

“You make me too nervous. You surprised me when I punched you last month and the whole bat thing…your mouth distracted me and I accidentally swung the bat down,” Jackson admits with a wince. “I think I’m worst than you with crushes.”

Stiles laughs, not giving a shit if his entire body roars in pain. He says, “We’re going to make an interesting pair, aren’t we?”

“I guess so. We’ll plan a date for when you’re feeling better.”

“I’m already feeling better!” Stiles teases, but his laugh causes him to groan and clutch his side. Jackson sits down on the chair beside him, amused.

 

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**

 

Stiles wears the pink shirt. Jackson rips a few buttons off it later that evening. Stiles finds he doesn’t care.

 

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**

**Author's Note:**

> Find me [here!](http://www.foxerica.tumblr.com)


End file.
